a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
."Put a blanket."
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
i see a website
really i want the internet
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
Better Lift
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext
kind of mythopoesis
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
its performative
you cannot feed someone truth
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
like first name
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation